Page 38 of Shadowed Obsession

She’s making eyes across the floor at something or someone. Her finger lifts to beckon them to her and like a lost puppy, this guy drops everything for her call.

As he should.

I study their interaction with pure curiosity. It’s unfamiliar seeing her around other men, and I don’t know why it bothers me. I only know Deirdre alone and in professional settings, but this is new. I dig through my pockets for my phone, opening up our text thread, and my fingers fly across the screen to distract her. I tap send and watch closely, but she remains focused on him.

My jaw ticks at the sight of his hands on her body, as if they’ve earned that privilege. I bet he’s a pretty boy who’s more concerned with himself than complimenting her. Sheisthe main event and exudes that.

He’s not a bad dancer, but I’m better. There’s nosazónwith this guy, and she needs someone who can match her energy.

It’s apparent in the way he moves that he can’t take control in the way she needs. He’s rigid and uncertain, hesitant in his every step, and it’s clear she isn’t going home with him tonight.

She turns around, faces the crowd, and grinds her plump ass on him. A view I could do without seeing, but I can’t look away now. His stupid grin widens as he takes in curves he isn’t worthy of. I bet he thinks he’s getting lucky tonight. Not if I have anything to do with it, I decide.

She can do better than this fucking clown. I shake my head as he palms her hips cautiously, failing to steer the wild ride that she is.

He has no idea that the meek act is a ploy to reel in what shereallywants. Often erring on the side of caution when she craves small doses of danger and immense pleasure.

What if she didn’t have to ask for it? What if thisisher way of asking for it?

I wonder if she has any idea that I see what she’s too afraid to vocalize. I worry about what her interests have awakened in me and if they’d exist beyond this case.

If I had her on this dance floor, she’d melt into me, following my lead and swaying that perfect ass to every tempo. I’d lose track of time getting lost in her with a possessive hold on her waist to leave marks for my eyes only. She’d be a needy, begging mess by the end of the night, desperate to be claimed before we even made it home.

A man who sees her for all that she is and wouldn’t think of hiding her.That’swho she deserves, not a goofy wallflower giving her a lackluster homecoming dance as if she’s a child. She’s a grown-ass woman with needs that can only be fulfilled by a grown-ass man.

As irritated as this guy makes me, Deirdre can shoo him all on her own. But I’m here if she needs assistance. I’d just prefer that she doesn’t see my face, should I need to intervene.

I’m not proud of the texts I sent in my fit of jealousy, but what’s done is done. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is one of her games to provoke me.

If I react, she wins, but the night isn’t over yet. I lie to my friends about using the bathroom and sneak off to the bar to ask the bartender to keep the cherry smashes coming as long as Deirdre asks for them.

They exit the dance floor after a few songs, and my stomach drops at the possibility of her leaving my sight. I zero in on her until they stop at the bar and she grabs a seat to rest.

The bubbly bartender speaks to her, and she begins scanning the room for me. The clown returns with water for her, and he’s leaning in again, likely inviting her to his place.

She won’t say yes. She has better taste than that. Plus, she has her friends visiting.

Her gaze tracks down as she searches her bag, pulling out her phone to take his number.

She won’t be needing it.

After they part ways, I observe as he cuts through the dance floor to return to his section. The velvet rope lifts, and his gaze prowls the space, likely for another woman to attempt to seduce.

Good riddance.

I do something reckless as hell, continuing to dance over the line of impropriety like it’s a mere suggestion. I get up from my seat at the bar, keeping her in my line of sight as I begin to follow them, maintaining a good distance. Anxiously waiting for an opportunity to approach her, because she thinks I won’t. Normally, I wouldn’t react or provoke a subject in a public place. Especially a woman. She could scream, fight, have me attacked or thrown out of this bar, but something tells me Deirdre Klarke wouldn’t do that. Not to me.

If dangerous pleasure is her nightly craving, it’d be rude not to offer a taste. It’s her birthday after all, and I promised surprises.

I am nothing if not a man of my word.

deirdre

10:04 p.m. | ‘the second incident’

Even though I am always working since I moved to Austin, I asked my assistant Brian about the local nightlife and was recommended a spot we’re sure to enjoy for girls’ night. I hope this spot lives up to the hype, because I don’t think I have it in me to bar hop like I once did, way back when.

We hit a bar downtown, and it has the perfect atmosphere. Dark, intimate, and the music is perfect. The dance floor is littered with sweaty bodies, unabashed and in love—or at leastfor tonight. Mild jealousy settles in my stomach. It must be nice to have someone to go home with, even for the night.

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